Snow
by Cheria
Summary: A.U. - Matsumoto P.O.V. - "When I found you, you were a child." Rangiku learns just how childish Gin can be.


Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its contents, Tite Kubo does.

* * *

When I found you, you were a child.

The park had been long deserted, even the sound of the leaves rustling on the ground was audible. It was snowing heavily that day, the white drops building up to my knees, hindering my movement. It took a while, but then I saw the black dot perched on the center of the park's plaza.

Even as I came up from behind, you didn't move. You were wearing a dark, tattered jacket that appeared to be made of thin material, the color I had spotted from the distance. It was not suitable for the current weather and environment, but you didn't seem bothered. Your hood was up, but the way it hung near the nape of your neck made it obvious that you were looking up at the blue sky that was litered with snow. I made a sound.

You turned around unalarmed despite my sudden sneeze, having known I've been there some time ago. My eyes lock on with your turquoise pair, and I remember vaguely wondering if you were blind. Your pupils were lost in that impossibly light color. You meant no harm; you only turned to inquire about my well-being, your face adorned with those innocent yet caring eyes. But I couldn't look at them. I couldn't bear to look at your frightening eyes.

Then you grinned, your lips widening to a ridiculous length on that pudgy face of yours - then realization dawned.

You were still a child. In comparison to your uncaring smile, your baby fat was nothing to take note of.

Without any word you patted the soft spot beside you, scraping away the snow with bare hands as you motioned for me to come sit. I had complied, noticing the palm of your hands tinted with a bright shade of pink from the cold. The ground was hard and uncomfortable, but I had endured the moment to join you in your meaningless sightseeing.

I hadn't stayed for long. Only a few minutes passed before I stood up and said my goodbyes. You hadn't said anything still, waving at me in reply as I left the park to my usual spot, praying that no one had taken over the territory.

* * *

And today I saw you again. You were perched on the same spot I left you the other day, in that same position. It wasn't snowing, yet you continued to look up expectantly. The adults that passed by with their children looked at you oddly as if you were an irregular, and quickly escorted their family away from you. You looked so alone, sitting on that cold pavement by yourself, every inch of your body save for that fatty face and pair of plump hands tucked under thin articles of clothing.

It didn't take long to make my way to you, dropping down beside you as I had a few days earlier. This time you don't bother to acknowledge my presence in any way and I say nothing of it.

Sooner or later every bit of my patience is wrenched out of me and I turn to face you. I am careful to avoid your eyes.

"What are you waiting for?"

You don't budge, but reply with a raspy and distant tone. "The snow."

I scoff, my voice skeptic. "Do you really think it'll snow today?"

"Yes."

"You're strange."

This time you give me no response, and I sigh. I twiddle and play with my fingers, my gaze constantly fluctuating as I look at the sky, at you, at the children with their mommy and daddy, even at the ground. Time is suddenly impossibly slow, and no matter how many days it felt like had passed, I knew only an hour or two at best had been put behind me.

I am pulled out of the vortex of time when something cold lands on my cheek. Out of reflex I pull back, my right hand flying up to reach the offending object. The only thing my fingers touch is liquid, and I am momentarily put in a state of confusion, until I realize what had landed.

You speak without being spoken to for the first time I've been here. "See?"

I merely nod, gazing up at the sky to see tiny flaky figures. Snowflakes.

Another insanely cold sensation touches my other cheek, and the solidity of it is enough to tell me it is not snow. Reaching up to the form, I denote that it is a hand. Glancing, I see that you are the owner of the appendage. You withdraw the hand, and the wetness of it is signifies that you had brushed off a snowflake on my face. The intimacy and touch makes me feel warm and stuffy. However, that is the least of my thoughts.

Your hand is cool and clammy. The mere thought of it sends shivers down my spine.

* * *

Since that day I've made it a habit to visit you. It didn't take long to figure that you were an orphan also. Everyday you wore the same clothing - and every single day and night you would sit on that spot. But the fact that your baby fat is so prominent never ceases to astonish me. I never see you eating or moving about, yet there is more meat beneath that clammy skin than my own cool one. Perhaps you were better off than most of the homeless, even if no one has witnessed you having a meal.

It was outrageously slow at first, but after a couple more conversations I came to learn that you are rather talkative. My assumption is that you were shy at my outright intrusion at first. But thinking back on the past, your reactions were anything but distant, and my thought is proven wrong. Our situation has changed - you now do most of the talking, and I listen.

* * *

I blurt out the words after taking several deep breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Hnn?" You raise a thin brow, utterly confused at my inquiry.

"You look... tired." It was true. For a couple days now it has come to my attention that you seemed inactive. You mumble often, don't even move a finger, and your head hangs. The last of my observations is the most alarming - you are always looking at the sky for those tiny snowflakes. Now, even if it is snowing, you don't glance up.

You smile. I can immediately tell, it's fake. Without hesitation you mutter "I'm okay".

An outright lie.

* * *

To my shock and surprise, you aren't here today. There is no splotch of black I can see from the distance in the park's plaza, and I know that you are not present. For the first time since we met, you are absent from our daily meeting. It couldn't have been my question from yesterday; as far as my perception goes, you never let trivial things bother you. I am left to ponder over my choice of having inquired you about your fatigue in the first place, and if you will be back again.

* * *

The next day I see you perched on that spot. It had looked so lonely without you despite the numerous children that were running around at the time.

I decide to pick up my survey.

"Can you see?" You make a sound, your latest form of replying. Your knees are drawn up, arms wrapped around them as you rest your head in the gap between your knees. "I mean, are you... colorblind? Or something?"

A rustling sound to my left indicates that you are fidgeting. I turn to see you raise your head slowly as if it's taking great effort just to lift it. But in a flash your frightening eyes are locked with mine. What was more terrifying was how you were looking at me and not at me at the same time. Your eyes looked straight into mine, but were unfocused. You crawl closer to me until our faces are a mere centimeters apart, then pull away.

Your pupils are dilated; unseeing of what is in front of you.

"You have blue eyes." You mutter flatly and leave it at that. I touch my cheeks - having never picked up a mirror before in my life, I had had no clue. At best reflections from the pond did their work, but the quality of the image it produced was poor.

A fleeting moment passes before I find the right words to use. "I do?" And for the second time that day, you look me strangely in the eyes again, and nod.

* * *

I had known that in due time my patience would no longer be kind to you. I just hadn't expected it to dry out this quickly. My face is hot from sheer rage. Shooting up from my sitting position, I stomp on the ground with what little energy I have and look down indignantly at you. You don't seem to notice, still in that curled position. The hood you never take off covers your expression, and I am left wondering if your features have changed at all from my physical outburst.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" You give me no response of any kind, and I am suddenly desperate. "Look up! The snow is falling. Focus! You're missing out on what you always anticipate. What's happened to you? Why is all the life in you gone?" A twitch of your clammy hands is enough to tell me you are listening and comprehending my lecture.

"Why won't you talk to me?" My voice is now a whisper, and the way your head is slowly rising shows me that your mask has been removed; your feature is mangled and distorted by that unruly frown of yours I have never seen. It is frightening yet comforting at the same time - you are, for once in the past few days, acknowledging my presence.

You still don't say or do anything besides raising your head. Out of desperation I approach my last resort.

Your body is stiff, and you tense when my arms wrap around your smaller form, my dirty coat engulfing us both as I stand, crouched. Without your approval I crush my lips to yours, attempting to draw out some audacity - anything.

When I pull away, you are silent, and my rage dissipates. Instead, I am full of grief and disappointment as I look down at you in disbelief. You are no longer frowning, since the shape of your mouth shifted when I was forcefully kissing you. I can't tell what look you're wearing; your head is hanging again.

"Think about it."

Those are my last words as I whip around and walk away. You do nothing to stop my departure. I raise the tip of my fingers to my lip, thinking back on our contact. Your lips were dry. And then realization dawned - there _is_ something wrong with you.

Were you distancing yourself from me because of this? Even after all our days together, you are still a child.

Due to all the outrage and commotion, I failed to realize until much later that it had stopped snowing shortly after my leave.

* * *

I never saw your eyes or that impossible grin again.

The day after my outburst I had heard a siren. Out of curiosity I followed the sound since it was close by. Strangely, it didn't come as a surprise when an ambulance was perched beside the park's surrounding, a spot of black being moved towards the vehicle. I had known right away.

That was you, wasn't it? Always the child.

You didn't come back after that. Without so much as a warning, you had distanced and lost yourself. Then you left so abruptly. Even as I sit now in that spot that you shared with me, you aren't coming. As fate would have it, I can no longer find you.


End file.
